


Filming Jesus

by crackers4jenn



Category: Community, Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackers4jenn/pseuds/crackers4jenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>God is not here, Dean. (Or, <i>Jeff and Annie meet Dean and Castiel</i>. Set during Community s3 and SPN s5.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Filming Jesus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dollsome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollsome/gifts).



~~~

"Annie, no, they're _weird_."

Those are Jeff’s actual words, but filtered through Annie’s overly optimistic brain, what she hears from him is, _I'm just too gosh darn emotionally closed off to ever be able to openly agree with your awesome and charitable suggestion, but please know, you're brilliant and I fully back you up as much as my shriveled heart allows_.

This is in regard to Annie's plea during one of the dean's thrice annual _Just 'Cause!_ dances, where she'd eyed two lone men -- and here Jeff's brain lurched to a slow crawl, because what sort of grown adult would show up to a Greendale function that likely wasn't advertised anywhere beyond Craiglist, besides creepy weirdos; Jeff obviously didn't count, he was here with the _study group_ , thank you -- and deemed the aforementioned two lone men _wallflowers_ and _you know what, I bet they're new_ and _we should welcome them_ because _that's what people do, Jeff, they introduce themselves to strangers and engage in conversations_.

"And besides," she says now, inching back with a point still to make, "maybe you're just jealous." That's delivered with an ending look that basically speaks to Jeff's ego as such: _bring it on_! There's absolutely no way Jeff's jealous, _please_ , that would be the talk of the ill-informed and, oh right, CRAZY. Annie catches his facial retort and manages to fling a smug look the dean's way -- who, fine, has been cradling a _GREENDALE'S MOST VISUALLY APPEALING_ trophy all night long, not that Jeff cares -- before she whips around and tails it, haughtily, towards those two grown ass men.

Jeff's gaze drags over to Britta in disbelief.

"Hey, don't look at me," she says, hands already splayed out defensively. "I see a cause, I serve a cause. I can't help it if that's rubbed off on Annie. You should be thanking me. You _ALL_ should be thanking me!" That’s a shout meant to preach to a malleable audience, but it's just Jeff nearby, and everyone else who _is_ within earshot ignores her instead.

"Wow," Jeff says.

"Shut up."

"Thank you," he continues, and Britta glowers, mouth puckered and lemony.

"Yeah, well, your face," she zings back.

"Seriously, thank you. I think I speak for the zeros of people when I say, you are the definition of inspiration. Do you teach classes?"

"Uh, yeah, assdouche, how about the class I call _Annie's Getting Hit On, Eat That Noise_."

Jeff chuffs out a laugh. Britta gloats with her face. Jeff is an idiot who is slow on the uptake, but when all the dots connect and he glances erratically behind him, he finds -- yep, that is Annie toeing at the ground between those two creepy Craigslist pedophiles.

"Ha," Britta chirps. "Looks like _someone_ just got Britta'd."

Annie alone with strange men? Yeah, hi, he's seen this movie and it's called AND THEN ANNIE GETS LED TO A VAN VIA A BASKET FULL OF DISEASED PUPPIES. He's just being a good friend, okay; at least that's his rationalization for already being mid-pivot and on the move with the intent to intervene.

He snarks over his shoulder, "Still an insult!" at Britta, which she _so's your face_ back at him, to which he sing-songs, "Already used it!" but all other comebacks get ignored because then he is swooping up on Annie, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulder right off the bat. The music, it should be noted, switches from the near-constant Rihanna and who Jeff is guessing might be Lady Gaga but could also be Eminem, for all he knows, to something creepy and seductive.

From somewhere beside them, the dean's voice trickles out of the speakers: "Get your sway on, Greendale, but remember, keep the PDA on the dean-low. Some of us came here solo and we don't need your sexual reminders or your PC-friendly relationships shoved in our face! He... says, about... Pierce Hawthorne!" (And then elsewhere, beyond Jeff's caring, there's Pierce crying out, "Hey!")

"Hel- _looo_ ," Jeff says, already on the crazy side, that's fine, he can admit it, "lookey here, it's my special friend Annie talking to some grown-ups."

Annie, of course, tries to yank away from Jeff, but he's older, stronger, and lording about two solid feet of height over her.

Now that Jeff's come over here, though, he doesn't even see what the big deal is. There's the one guy who, what, that's right, the 1980's called and said they wanted their _douchey butch_ look back, and another wearing a trenchcoat, which only solidifies Jeff's initial predator accusations. They're not even handsome. Much.

"Jeff, gross," Annie whines, flinging his arm away from her. She folds her hands across her chest and glares. "Chill out, _dad_."

Jeff can feel his brain reject the insult. It's like there is a literal fist that comes out and punches it away, because what the hell, the 'dad' card? That's cruel.

Annie, sensing this, for she is made up partly of evil, only grins, pleased with herself.

Trenchcoat? He tilts his head at Jeff first, then Annie, very seriously staring them over. "Your familial resemblance is... lacking," he tells them.

The other guy, Mr. 80's TV Show, smacks Trenchcoat on the back with a deranged sort of smirk. "You gotta learn to read between the insults, man," he says, which only makes Trenchcoat get squintier.

Then he drops the look and loses interest and turns to Ken Doll Hair. "God is not here, Dean," he announces.

"Right, Cas," Dean laughs, forcing it out in what Jeff can respectfully acknowledge as feigned cool. Jeff knows that tone well. Jeff's pretty much made that his vocal cord's default. "Such a... figurative guy, not a, not literal..."

Cas -- dumb name -- goes narrow-eyed. "No. I meant, literally, God is not here. I would know."

It's probably Shirley's fault that this only feels like 80% weird. Annie, actually, has started to beam hearts at the guy, like, aw, what a cute little religious zealot he's turning out to be!

Like this Dean guy is eager to race past the awkwardness -- whatever, Jeff can respect that -- he nods down at Annie, asks real quick, "So, Annie, right? This your boyfriend?" That's aimed at Jeff, whose heart, as it seems to lately do whenever Annie and feelings are involved, presses hopefully against his ribcage like it actually expects to be put to use. Pfft, dream on.

Before Annie can explain their friendship -- and she's sputtering already, which is adorable, but also not, because Jeff is a man with a cold dead soul inside -- Cas leans in towards Dean. "He's her father." There's no _duh_ that follows it, but underneath the patience this reminder is given with, it's there clear as day. To Jeff, the guy then goes, "You must've bred fairly early." Said, too, like the vocal equivalent of a congratulatory slap on the back or something.

"Ew," Annie says. "And also? EW. Jeff's _not_ my dad."

"Cas, remember how we don't _freak complete strangers out_?" Dean says, bright-eyed and big smiles like maybe that will make up for the strong amount of crazy leaking out of his friend. "Or," he says through his teeth, using a finger to push Cas back a good four inches, "ignore personal space?"

"Apologies," Cas says, after a beat. It's directed robotically at all three of them, with shades of Abed.

Jeff is ready to reclaim their night, and his sanity, and head back towards the study group's designated meet-up spot, but Annie decides to prolong the encounter. "So," she bursts out with, "new students? Or?" She lets that trail off hopefully, like maybe they'll answer _or_ and it'll be something good.

Dean stares at his Cas friend, and Cas stares back. That happens for a while, until Jeff, with his voice pitched high enough to make everyone feel as uncomfortable as that stare-off made him feel, says, "Awesome, well--" But that's as far as he gets into what would've been a pretty remarkable blow-off, because right then the lights flicker off and the music comes to a halt, making half the room gasp ridiculously.

Sometimes this is Jeff's life.

Annie clutches at his wrist real suddenly, this darting grasp that he takes zero thrill in, except for how he maybe kind of wants to jiggle loose her grip until he can tangle their hands together, so! Fantastic! This blackout is damaging his brain.

She says, "Jeff?" and it's this small, on-the-verge-of-a-flipout murmur. He'd hate himself for knowing Annie's tones so well, but he's been exposed to enough of her feral screams that he's been preconditioned to react to them by now. Like some messed up Pavlovian response, it kicks his fight-or-flight instinct into high gear, except after all this time he knows to ignore _fight_ and go straight into _flight_.

As abruptly as they'd gone off, the music and lights switch back on, and Jeff nearly has a small stroke in the process because Abed and Troy are suddenly _right_ beside him. Troy's staring down the newcomers with blatant distrust, while Abed eyes the cafeteria's overhead lights.

"Cool," he says. "Cool cool cool."

"Very," Troy agrees without taking his eyes off of Dean and Cas. He asks, "Making friends, Jeff?" and there's something weird and territorial about it. Jeff can't tell if Troy's picking up on the same creepy vibes he was earlier, or if they've just become _that_ codependent as a group that outside acquaintances aren't allowed.

Dean laughs some. It's a hollow sound that suggests they might actually be at some kind of _crazy people anonymous_ meeting right now. "Actually, we were just stopping through. We’re hoping to find—"

"God," Cas says.

Dean looks owlishly at his friend, then smiles and clarifies, "A buddy of ours."

"God," Cas agrees.

Annie starts getting cartoon hearts in her eyes again, letting go of Jeff’s wrist to instead clasp her hands in front of her. Some serious cooing is about to go down, only Jeff cuts that noise short with a scoff.

"You came to _Greendale_ to find _God_? Wow. Was Denny's not open?"

Annie elbows him in the gut, putting on a face fake with enthusiasm. "Don't be insensitive," she threatens out the side of her mouth. That might be solid advice, actually, since Cas is looking at Jeff like he wants to laser him with his eyeballs.

"There have been rumors."

Troy suddenly lets up on the intense staring to start nudging at Abed. "Hey, something's doing a keg flip, but in my brain. God. _God_. Why do I _know_ that name?"

Jeff breathes out another scoff, but heavier this time and more judging. "Seriously, Troy?"

Troy ignores him to lock huge eyes on Abed. Then he digs his wallet out and starts flipping through a mess of receipts and movie stubs and straw wrappers until he comes across this tiny square of folded up paper, which he unfolds.

" _Filming Jesus_ ," Abed announces right away, recognizing the flier. He says it all flashy, too, with his eyes glazing over, like the memory’s rushing in and there's this whole theatrical production going on his head. Let's face it, there probably is.

Annie smiles and leans into Jeff to catch a glimpse. "Awww! Abed! That documentary you did." And then she remembers what that experience was actually like, and the grin slips. "So fun," she lies.

"Mental breakdowns," Jeff agrees. "The _funnest_."

Weirdly matter-of-fact, Abed says back, "Oh, I didn't break down, Jeff." Jeff realizes maybe he shouldn't have used those words in front of Abed. It's sort of like _asking_ for Abed to retreat internally, and god knows Jeff doesn't have it in him to sit through another fake group therapy session. "All I did was channel the character I maybe wasn’t born to play, but was definitely born to channel, to a level beyond my control. God-like," Abed adds ironically after a moment to consider it.

Troy breathes out, "So cool,” with that borderline spooky awe he always gets whenever Abed is concerned

Cas leaves the personal space bubble of Dean's side to get all up in Abed and Troy's face. It makes Abed quirk his head and stare three paces to the left of everyone, avoiding eye contact, whereas Troy just puffs himself up to look bulkier.

"May I?" he asks, with a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it nod at the flier. His gaze is still locked on Troy’s, and, super creepily, it stays that way while said flier is slowly handed over. It's studied intensely, then, Cas's whole forehead scrunching up in what Jeff's going to go ahead and assume is distaste, given the guy's previous spiel of crazy regarding finding God and the tacky way Jesus!Abed is posed.

Eventually Cas looks up at Abed. Where before there was distaste, now it’s outright skepticism. "The story of the story is the story'." That’s a word-for-word repeat of the movie’s tagline that Jeff still hasn’t managed to get out of his head, which probably means he’s been brainwashed.

Dean tilts forward so he can peer over Cas's shoulder. "Dude. It's bogus."

Abed, though, he spreads his hands out in front of him and wiggles his fingers like the weirdo he is. "Jesus: man, myth, or meta?" Like that, too, is its very own tagline.

"Aw, man," Dean groans, and at first Jeff's thinking – well, mostly that he would rather be at home, first of all, with a nice glass of Scotch and maybe a _Real Housewives of Who The Hell Cares Where_ marathon happening in front of him – but he's also thinking this is an overreaction, _until_. Until Cas's eyes glaze over all fiery and spirited.

"Make no mistake, Jesus _is_ real," he vows. "He's not, as you say, a 'myth'." Holy crap, finger quotes.

Abed shrugs. "Either he is, or he isn't."

"He isn’t," Cas claims, stepping forward. Dean clamps him on the shoulder with a nope-nothing-crazy-happening-here chuckle when Troy starts to get that overprotective look about him. Usually it means Troy’s on the verge of a manly reaction -- crying, probably -- but fists have also been known to fly. They’re not the violent type, Troy or Abed, which is maybe the most loaded understatement of Jeff’s entire life, but those two watch a scary amount of action movies and seem to operate under the delusion that if they arrange their bodies into ninja-like poses, the spirit of Kickpuncher will manifest within and they, too, will become warrior fighters.

Jeff really wants to be on his couch right now.

"Alright, Billy Graham,” Dean pitches at the side of Cas’ head, “reel it in some." To the others, he says, "Cas loves him some Jesus." He smacks Cas on the back, hard. "Don't ya, Cas?"

“Of course,” Cas says, like Dean’s being an idiot right now. “He’s my Father’s most favored son--”

“Okay! Time’s up, man, we gotta go.”

Cas brings his head around to squint suspiciously at Dean. “What time? And go where? No, we haven’t even found this so-called ‘Jesus,’ Dean.” That comes with a one-handed finger quote, because he’s still clutching at Abed’s flier. Even so, it’s pretty accusatory. “I’d like to ask more questions.”

Dean lets out another, more awkward laugh. Jeff’s mentally dialing 911. Sure, as applied to the real world it’s a futile gesture, but he takes comfort in knowing he’s at least saner than two other people here. He’s going to tell his therapist about it. “Cas. Buddy. Say sayonara to the nice people.”

With that, Dean manages to manhandle both him and Cas past Troy, who’s still bulked up like the spirit of Kickpuncher lingers. Jeff sees Cas frowning and hears, “Why, no one here speaks Japanese...” Whatever Dean responds with, it gets lost in the sudden noise of the dance rushing back in.

Actual minutes pass in an otherwise relative silence before Troy yells, “My flier!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you a new one,” Abed tells him.

“Jerks.”

Annie’s hesitating at Jeff’s side, literally shifting from one foot to the other. From the embarrassment of being 100% wrong, Jeff figures. “Wellllll,” she says. The fact that it’s dragged out as long as it is already trips Jeff’s bullshit detector. “They weren’t _so_ bad. Right, guys?”

“No, Annie, they were _literally_ the Jim Belushi of crazy people,” Troy argues. He’s still got his gaze locked laser-tight at where the retreating form of trenchcoat is disappearing into the crowd.

Jeff tilts his head to the ceiling and briefly contemplates the many wrong life choices that have led him here. “Jim Belushi _is_ a person, Troy.” It just feels important to say that.

“Uh, obviously.” That’s said in a tone that implies Troy’s not the dumb one here. There’s a part of Jeff that wants to further argue back, but since it’s connected to the part of him that still manages to feel shame, he doesn’t want to rile it up lest he inadvertently awakens something dark and unstoppable.

“We should go,” Abed says out of nowhere, making hint-hint-nudge-nudge eyes at Troy, “while the night’s _still young_.”

“ _Right_ ,” Troy says, in the same voice. He nods his head tightly. “While the vents are still venting.”

Because she can’t leave well enough alone, Annie butts in. “You guys aren’t going to go get into trouble. Are you?”

“Nope,” Abed tells her sincerely, though every single thing about him, from his shifty gaze to the telltale rise-and-drop in his voice, is insincere as hell.

Annie narrows her eyes at him, slow and judgmental. Abed, though, has got an amazing poker face. Annie pins that stare on Troy instead.

“Troy?”

Troy stares blankly back pretty impressively, but then he starts making this high-pitched humming sound in the back of his throat that quickly escalates into a yelp, and it’s then that he cries, “We’re infiltrating the vents, I saw Annie’s Boobs in there, it’s a recovery mission!”

Before Troy can work himself up to full-blown sobbing, Abed hoists a hand skyward and declares, “To the vents!” It springs the two of them into action, and with some robot beatboxing and laser noises, they dart off towards the library.

Annie shakes her head fondly. Jeff pulls out his phone and starts deleting the night's events from his memory cave. The music, let it again be noted, reverts back to Rihanna.

(Troy and Abed do wind up wrecking half of Greendale, in what the dean would later refer to as _Troy and Abed’s Big Uh-Oh_ , a title he would dish out in person while wearing a bright orange safety vest, some cut off shorts, and not much else; for the first time in three years, the _GREENDALE’S MOST VISUALLY APPEALING_ trophy would be prized, not to Jeff Winger, its sole and previous victor, but a non-student who accepted the award with an understated ‘I don’t understand this reference.’; in a related twist of events, the dean soon after dropped his lifelong love of dalmatians and picked up instead a thing for handsome, dark-haired, nerdy dudes in trenchcoats.)


End file.
